


Different in Some Ways

by Sacramental_Wine



Series: hanzo76shipweek 2017 [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Fairy tale violence, Kissing, M/M, Prompt Fic, hanzo76shipweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 08:50:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11309946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sacramental_Wine/pseuds/Sacramental_Wine
Summary: "His name had been the first on their list to help defend them from some evil that had found its home outside their little farming town, a harbinger of death from the world of witchcraft. The messenger told him of the children wailing in the night, of strange cakes and ale popping up in places that lulled villagers into a trancelike state, missing valuables and mysterious plants the exploded with blue and gold spores." Hanzo76 Week Day 2 - AU





	Different in Some Ways

Ser Morrison had been called to the village suddenly, tracked down by a young messenger begging his help. His name had been the first on their list to help defend them from some evil that had found its home outside their little farming town, a harbinger of death from the world of witchcraft. The messenger told him of the children wailing in the night, of strange cakes and ale popping up in places that lulled villagers into a trancelike state, missing valuables and mysterious plants the exploded with blue and gold spores. 

It was impossible for him to deny their cries despite having left the path of a knight long ago to wander, the scars on his face still burning by the betrayal of his brother in arms. 

Old habits died hard. 

And Ser Morrison rode into town alongside the young man, trying to ignore the way the people fell to their knees and wept. They were putting him up in a house for the duration of his stay, the lord of the house having moved on after the troubles began. It had been cleaned and swept, had room for his horse and even a small staff to take care of it as he searched. 

He kept his crossbow on his back, a short sword at his belt, his thick metal armor left behind long ago for leather. It was quicker, easier to move in. And if he was fighting some demon he wanted to be able to move. 

By day he trekked the woods, boots crunching along the leaves under foot. He never so much as stumbled into a fairy circle after three days. He kept moving deeper and deeper, returning later and later in the evenings. He was curious as to whether or not the people here were just crazy. Though the feeling of eyes on his back kept him from leaving the quest entirely.  _ Something _ was here, he simply did not know what.

Things began changing on the fourth day. 

Jack, tired from his walking, found a river to sit by, leaning against a tree when he heard it. A voice, deep and soft, humming from further up stream. His bones creaked in protest as he climbed back to his feet, continuing to walk until he came to a still pool. Jack ducked behind a tree, watching as a figure moved in the water.

His thin, blue robes were soaked up to his thighs, long black hair swaying just above his waist as he moved, graceful and quiet. He seemed to be pulling river plants from the rocks, gathering them in a basket he had balanced on his hip. He was humming to himself, looking around before placing the basket on a rock and moving further into the water, his hair trailing like ink along the surface as he ducked down under in the center. 

Jack moved around the tree, trying to get a better look but didn’t see the man rise. He felt a twinge of panic jump through him as he darted forward, weapons left on the ground as he splashed into the pool. 

“Hang on!” he shouted, reaching down but catching nothing. He heard a soft laugh come from his left and his head turned, seeing the man sitting on the rocks, dripping wet and rolling his eyes. 

“I do not remember asking for a rescue,” he said, voice rolling like thunder and Jack scowled at him. 

Jack just raised an eyebrow, pulling himself free of the water to sit on the shore. “Excuse me for helping,” he groused, finding it hard to stay too upset as that odd laugh filtered through the air again. 

“Is that what helping is where you are from?” the man asked, his dark brown eyes focused and Jack would have  _ sworn _ they were golden for a moment. The man slid down the rock to sit with him, head tilted to the side. “What are you doing so deep in the forest anyway, Ser Morrison?”

“You know me?”

The man snorted. “Who  _ doesn’t _ know you? Ser Morrison, the brave slayer of the golem army. The man cursed by the Reaper, unable to be killed yet always dancing in death’s shadow. Everyone knows of you.” 

“And who are you?” Jack asked, raising an eyebrow, seemingly catching the man off guard. “I haven’t seen you in the village.” 

“...you may call me Hanzo,” the man, Hanzo, said, “and I do not live in the village.” 

Jack raised an eyebrow and Hanzo gave a huff, getting to his feet. “Not everyone lives in a village,” he bent over, picking up his basket, wet hair sliding over his shoulder like silk, “and you did not answer my question.”

“I’m hunting something evil,” Jack said, shrugging, “or, at least, the villagers think something evil moved in. I haven’t seen anything yet.” Hanzo was quiet for a moment, moving to walk off, wet silk clinging to his form, giving Jack a good view of his shape. That regal profile tilted to look over Hanzo’s shoulder, a little smile on his face.

“Good luck then, hunter.”

He practically disappeared after that. And Jack looked, trying to give chase, to see where the man went. But he found nothing. 

So he came back to the pool the next day. 

And the day after that. 

He did it for three days before Hanzo turned up again, stumbling on him this time with a huff. “Why do you keep coming here?”

Jack looked at Hanzo and shrugged. “I’m still hunting.”

“And yet you come to this spot three days in a row, one would think you were hunting for me.” 

Jack chuckled a little, watching the strange man tilt his head, looking so deeply annoyed that it read as hilarious to him. “I’m simply curious,” he said, “what has you returning to this spot if you want me to leave you be, water lily.”

“You know my name,” Hanzo huffed at him, a smile tugging at his lips, making his scowl seem half formed, “must you use such a silly name, oh great hunter?” He moved to sit by Jack, raising an eyebrow. 

“It seemed fitting seeing as how we met when you were doing an impression of one,” Jack teased in return, rolling his eyes. Hanzo just seemed amused by it, moving to place his chin on his knee to look at Jack, hair spilling like silk. 

“You are...interesting, hunter.”

“Jack.”

Hanzo tilted his head. 

“Just call me Jack.”

The next few weeks passed by swiftly, but sweetly. Hanzo and Jack ended up meeting every day at the pool of water, talking in hushed tones and laughing, sniping at each other or discussing their days. Hanzo had a brother who lived far, far away. Jack had no siblings but his father still lived in a kingdom to the north. Hanzo preferred apples to plums and Jack wasn’t overly fond of either but the white plums Hanzo brought him had been tart on his tongue in a way that made him rethink his opinion. 

Every so often he’d wake to a small basket of white plums on his windowsill. 

Which always begged the question as to how Hanzo knew where he lived but Jack was a man who could be distracted and taken off guard by simple human kindness. No, instead of questioning how things tended to turn up in his home he merely laughed with Hanzo, following the strange man on walks through the forest, learning more about plants than he could ever remember. Hanzo seemed to know the forest inside and out, as though it were a part of his very existence. 

Each passing day from morning to sunset found Jack eager to take off to the forest, to hunt and fish and walk long, unbeaten paths with the strange man in his strange robes with his enchanting voice and more enchanting hands. He felt like an adolescent again, warmth blooming in his chest when he could get Hanzo to crack a smile, to snort around a laugh when he told a poorly placed joke. Hanzo never joined him in the village and always turned down the food he brought almost insisting on feeding Jack himself, but Jack thought nothing of his strange behavior. 

They traded stories through the hush of leaves, touches growing more bold as time trickled through their fingers. Jack never questioned why Hanzo’s hair smelled of the electricity before a storm when he caught it and Hanzo never questioned Jack’s scars and the subtle shadows that riled when he walked too close to the shade of dead trees. 

One evening found them sitting beneath a flowering tree, spring softly shifting shades to summer, the air growing hot and humid. It had been a month and still no evil had turned up. The village hadn’t complained of anything either, thinking Ser Morrison’s presence alone was enough to keep the demon or witch away from them. It wasn’t like he had anywhere to be, after all. 

Jack laid back in the grass, arms folded behind his head, comfortable silence having lapsed between them as Hanzo worked at grinding up some concoction that he said would keep Jack’s cuts from getting infected. The steady, soft scrape of stone on stone relaxed him more thoroughly, making him doze in the sunlight until he felt a calloused hand on his face, spreading the gunk over the cut under his eye. On instinct, he grabbed Hanzo’s hand, looking up at him, black silken hair falling in his face. 

Hanzo’s eyes were always so deep, so sad looking to him in a way that spoke beyond the younger man’s years. And Hanzo met his gaze easily, not intimidated or even afraid at the way he was grabbed, his fingertips brushing over the curve of Jack’s cheek and something clicked into place in the knight’s chest. He pulled a little on Hanzo’s hand, bringing him closer and Hanzo moves like water, like smoke over crossroads. 

Jack leaned in a little and Hanzo bit his lip, a fetching blush to his features. “Think about this,” he breathed slowly, as though the words pained him, “you should not...with someone like me.” Jack released his hand, bringing his own to Hanzo’s face to cup his cheek, relishing the way his beard scraped against the heel of his hand. 

“Why not?” he asked softly, their noses brushing. Maybe it was the heat, the mood of the dying summer sunlight giving way to stars like teardrops on velvet but Jack would have sworn those chocolate brown eyes had turned golden for a moment. Hanzo didn’t pull back, didn’t even struggle, seemed to be finding words that didn’t fit in his mouth. 

Hanzo breathed in shakily and deep. “You will leave,” he said softly, “when...when you find out how different my kin truly is.” 

“I have no where else to be,” Jack said softly, about to continue before Hanzo bridged the gap, kissing him like his life depended on it. He wrapped an arm around him, pulling the smaller man in his thin robes closer, pressing tighter before they panted and Hanzo laughed, almost bitter and pained. 

Hanzo pressed their foreheads together, cupping Jack’s cheeks, eyes sliding shut and thunder rolled overhead. He seemed...spooked by it but not enough to move. “You taste like a mistake, great hunter.”

Jack simply laughed. 

It became harder to keep his hands away from Hanzo after that, tugging him into kisses behind trees, carding his fingers through his hair and reveling in the way Hanzo’s nimble fingers would scratch along his stubbled chin or his sharp teeth would bite at his lips. 

Jack had been in love once before. It had been cursed and bitter and left him dancing away from a shadow that followed him like nightmares and incense but Hanzo felt perfect in his arms, warm and perfect and food still turned up mysteriously, but only in his window. Sometimes small flowers, bright blue and delicate like glass. 

Of course it was all going to go badly. 

The storm rolled in and Jack awoke to screaming outside his house. He jumped from his bed, startled, crossbow in hand as he rushed outside only to catch sight of one of the servant women who had lived in his home on the ground, screaming and pointing at a figure looming over her. 

A flash of light let Jack see Hanzo, truly, for what he was. 

Golden horns curled from his forehead and over his hair, eyes filled with gold till the iris was gone, blue scales creeping along the edges of his hairline and down his neck. Hanzo looked at Jack with wide eyes, hair messed up and shaking. He looked ready to bolt, ready to run away as the woman took off into the village through sheets of rain. 

“J-Jack…” Hanzo said, soaking wet, robes clinging to his body like a second skin, the outline of a cursed tattoo on his left side. “You weren’t...supposed to see me like this.” 

Jack had seen many things in his life. He’d seen an angel descend to earth before him to raise a man from the dead, a dwarf craft a golem so large and strong it could crush boulders with its hammer, a bard heal wounds with only his music and a craftswoman so skilled her creations seemed to be made only of light but Hanzo…

Hanzo was beyond experience. 

“We have to go,” Jack said simply, taking Hanzo by the wrist and running out into the forest before the screaming could begin, the pitchforks waving as he ran. Hanzo panted behind him, muttering in a language that made his hair stand on end before the other man dragged him through a shimmering circle that appeared before them, slamming them into the floor of a small, cozy home, decorated in silks and smelling of plants and incense and that strange tea Hanzo seemed to prefer. 

On the floor, Jack looked up, watching Hanzo drip onto the floor, staring back at him. Every bit of water that hit the ground seemed to make a scale disappear from view, horns retreating into his skin and his eyes slowly coming into focus. He fell to his knees beside Jack, hands shaking. 

“Why?” Hanzo asked, suddenly looking angry.

“Why what?” Jack asked, blinking before Hanzo growled and shoved him into the ground, practically snarling. 

“Why did you run with me?!” he snarled, “they will think you are enthralled to the witch now!”

“Aren’t I?” Jack joked and he watched Hanzo snarl a little more, a laugh passing the knight’s lips. “Seriously...what were you doing there?”

That had Hanzo blushing, reaching into his sleeve to reveal a small jar. “You...got hurt yesterday and I wanted to leave some of the potice for you. To keep you healthy. Fool.” 

Jack took the jar, kissing Hanzo on the cheek. “Thanks.”

“That still does not excuse...this!” Hanzo said, shoving at him, flushed and angry looking. Or at least trying to be. “We cannot stay here...they will stumble upon my home eventually…” 

Jack hummed. “Where do we go then?” 

“We?”

“Yeah,” Jack chuckled a little, pulling Hanzo back, kissing him firmly, “I did my job, tracked down the “evil” plaguing the village…”

“I am not “evil” as you know,” Hanzo said, sounding petulant, “I...I am a dragon. It is common for dragons to offer gifts of food and drink to their neighbors. To scare away the fae that would steal their children in the night.” He folded his arms and Jack tilted his head. 

“So this is what you meant by different kin,” Jack laughed at that, running a hand through Hanzo’s soaked hair, pushing it over his ear, smiling as he nuzzled into his hand, “and the spores?”

“I am a witch...as well as a dragon,” Hanzo trailed his fingers through the air, “they mark my protection in an area. Such appreciation I feel! They called you in to hunt me for my good natured help.” 

“Why not kill me?” Jack asked, curious, “why let me...do this?”

Hanzo blushed again, eyes darting to the side. “You...kept chasing me. I had never been chased before. It was...fun.” 

Jack pressed their foreheads together, kissing him soft and slow and sweet. He would probably need to disappear, his shadow roiled in jealousy and his name would be cursed as the village definitely was going to think him enthralled. 

“So, where do we go from here?”

Hanzo hummed in thought, smiling softly, eyes flashing gold. 

“I have a brother who lives in the mountains with a fox spirit,” he said, running a hand through Jack’s hair, “perhaps, great hunter, it is time for you to go on a new adventure.” 

Jack took his hand, kissing it. “I live to serve.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to follow at thexdragonxbecomesxme.tumblr.com and ask for commission info!


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